Luyện nghe bài hát Family Reunion

[Intro - Killa BH -
Uh oh!
It's time again
It's too long
It's family
We got to y'all to the game (IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?)
You know what talk to 'em (HUH?)
go (IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?)

[Joe Budden - talking behind BH]
Uh
Mic check, mic
Check, one two, one two

[DJ On - talking]
Y'all know what time it is (y'all already know what time it is)
reunion (family reunion)
Ransom (Ransom), Hitchcock (Hitchcock), Fab (Fab), go

Budden - talking behind DJ On Point]
The is out niggaz, uh
Get 'em boy

1 - Ransom]
Ain't tryin to rap or play me
I'll be at they crib with a couple hammers and a old AV
gonna pay me, still get the smack off Baisley
Cause I'm touchin more than Shaq old lady
Boy, you did it, I it, I get it, I punish
The shit that I come with'll a rib from a stomach
I'm the boss, when I it, you love it
Matter fact, I'm a Viking, I need a village to plumage
Yeah, the nigga is here, the city is
You got the throne? Then I think I to sit in your chair
We really get physical here
And the the limit nigga, I put your whole clique in the air
Baby, so quit playin, 'fore the spray 'em
And have his MIA Nick Saban
His whole caved in, my whole clique cavemen
Hard nigga, my whole shit pavement
You can't spit if you in the ground
In the woods, your head'll be found
And it's good that you gettin it now, in the precinct it now
I can't fuck with the of you clowns, faggot

[Verse 2 -
High in the silence before the
Lincoln Park, the
Slang rock on the same that the water on
I be more gone, run and get your order form
Next time I record a song, gon' put my on
Cause she realer than most
I tote triggers, for you broke and gold diggers with no figures
That why I palm the heater, for all you
I'm on your ass like on Rice, I'm Condoleezza
con the preacher, you tryin to get on a feature
Better get your bastard (why?), I'm gon' eat ya
We ain't in the weight class
Your fake ass, stop a nigga with brake pads
I'm way past, anything that you did
I'm better kid and we sweat a bid
easy to get a cig
In the bing, I'm like Ving Rhames, I pain
I sling 'caine off the wing I'm King James
Y'all doubtin
When I spit the whole lead, be callin Code Red, like Mountain Dew
'Fore I count to two, you could get your blown (OH!)
Cause your chemic's out of minutes like a (NIGGA!)
Get back homes, I'm on my shit
I mingle, I'm like Pringles, stackin my chips
Clappin my fifth, you the 'test me
Comin out with a "Blade" to get Wesley
So the cops could arrest me, right? not happenin
You ain't ever gonna get on, so stop
(H20) comin this summer, so askin
All heat Wall Street, your stock crashin
Now the Feds want to read his
Lord have mercy, Christ, I got passion
I'm and all my niggaz gettin this 'feti
We in the Chevy and ready to pop and (what? OH!)

[Chorus - Joe - w/ ad libs]
So whatever you tryin to do little niggaz (niggaz), I already (done)
And since you want to live by it nigga (nigga), then die by the gun (gun)
See you tryin to do little nigga, I've already done (done)
So how the fuck you gon' win nigga (nigga), I've already won (won)

[Verse 3 -
Like we do it, d-d-damn
Yes (yes), go (yes), uh huh
Aiyyo, money is the root of all evil I
But when I'm broke is usually I have the evilest thoughts
when the arms come out, like sleeves when it's short
With more bullets than your favorite wide has caught
And that Mossberg, ya Steve Smith & Wesson ya
Your shoes pop up like Instant
got mail, naw nigga you got shells
And my Mac, you can't use for
got that, confused that will lie flat
And my gat is on leg like tat
I that nigga, who you
Some broke niggaz who tryin to get youtube views
So 'less you a point blank, boy you're too close
Bail's in pocket, this is Lou Los
I'm pretty sure more hotties seen me in that door ridey
Double pipes a sawed off shotty, nigga

(IS WHAT YOU WANT?)

4 - Joe Budden]
Look, I flow sickly, ridin, old Biggie
Roll with me or lose weight, Nicole
plat, if I don't reach diamond fame
I treat a nigga's face like the old game
out why men try us
Cause we OD on rims and then tires, for we Len Bias
All it takes is a
He ain't brave, he a
I'll put his family in boxes, meet the Brady
How y'all feel
Should kill yourselves, us don't need you, you Bill Parcells
And you ain't got to empty your when the K's out
Whatever you is mine, you my PayPal
See I get how this guy is a threat
I his life inept for a pie to the neck
Ride or die, if you both nigga, ride to the
I acappella the left side of his chest
Not retirin, still got that pendin
Tryin to pop the hood and see the engine
Double shotgun, have your men get missin
She got pretty brown eyes and she in mint
Oh the cig in the car, you en moi
Take the ratchet go home and just Benoit
I tell a bird like it is, you promise the
I one line her (you), you Isiah the broad
I send a clique cartridge at a nemesis target
And catch a ROR on Jena 6 charges (naw)
Naw, I'll put this away
I don't even need a hairdo to flip 'em, all it take is one finger wave
Been in the bing for days, show you how I'm
Come home to the truck with the Prime grill
out crack, got the scene poppin off
They not sleepin on 'em, the is noddin off
For real, me how you a thug and you Superman (nigga)
I just seen you in the club the Superman (nigga)
A bunch of homes
All I in this world is the pound chrome, Huxtable brown stone
Major (I mean), cake by the layers
If dudes is live, I'm the Creative Player
They callin 'em when they so so hot
Something's with that picture, must be Photoshop
I don't promote violence, but when sparkin the - BLAM
Arms wavin like the Carlton Banks dance
them tools go pop, it move whole blocks
Come around with your dog and get shot
These MC's is lame, I try to be an MC with
These niggaz is MC
Bein nice, rappers is far bein nice
I'm on the recordin, and niggaz is bein sniped
like

[Chorus - w/ ad

[Outro - DJ On Point - - w/ Killa BH ad libs in background]
to the whole BSC (whole BSC)
Shout to my Dru Cartier
SlimeBugz, DJ
The Don (The Don), Dre (Dre Bless)
DJ Dru (DJ Baby Dru)
My Freeze